


Workout Blues

by ForbiddenArcanum



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games), Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Drabble, Other, Scents & Smells, Solo, Super Kinky, foot growth, hyper cock, hyper feet, hyper muscle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenArcanum/pseuds/ForbiddenArcanum
Summary: Little Mac has some trouble getting his reps in, but he powers through! He’s just oozing motivation, wouldn’t you say? Or perhaps that’s… something else.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Workout Blues

Little Mac, star boxer of the arena and local hottie with a body, was having some trouble. His weight room was huge. His equipment was pristine. His shoes were enormous and had excellent traction, and not to mention the plushy insides – but that was straying from the point.

He was too big.

Mac sat on the seat of the pec fly, arms spread wide. His tanned hands gripped onto the cushy handles, and he pulled as hard as he could. The entire stack of weights slowly moved upwards, but then stopped about halfway up, jiggling up and down. Mac grunted, trying harder and harder – but not for want of strength. It was… sterically impossible. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make his arms phase through his enormous, foot-long pec shelf. The best he could do was spray half a gallon of sticky, thick pec milk from his enormous nipples with his efforts. He groaned as he felt his chest began to firm up even more, the already enormous pillows of muscle expanding further and further. Squeezing out all that milk just meant his body was making more.

He groaned and stood up, looking at himself in the mirror. When he so much as turned, it was difficult to see anything as his enormous pecs jiggled and bounced. The tanned slabs of muscle blocked his vision sometimes – but he figured he could live with it. After all, it meant he could take more hits that any boxer he knew. Any time he was punched, he never felt it – and his opponent was instantly given an enormous faceful of his pec milk. If they were lucky, it was more like a bodyful. Well, it was lucky for Mac, anyhow. God, just thinking about it got his dumb, empty boxer brain going.

With a meaty thwack, Mac let out a low chuckle, his enormous and tanned cock slapping right in between his pecs. It fit snugly, as if it belonged there. When he moved to admire it in the mirror, his pecs jiggled up and down the shaft, coating it with warm pec milk and causing it to throb and splatter precum everywhere. Running a hand through his hair, Mac laughed and tried to focus.

“Okay, okay. Actual workout time. Let’s go.”

He dropped to the floor, getting on his knees, and then falling forward with a force that shook the building. As he pushed himself upwards, he put pressure on his cushy and enormous emerald green hi-tops, sending out a spray of his jock sweat and filling the room with his musk once more. If his balls and pits weren’t smelly enough to taint the room, it was tainted now.

Slowly, he tried lowering himself. He couldn’t get very far before his pecs blocked the way, leaving a puddle of milk under him. He was down and back up in less than a second – but what he lacked in quality, he felt he could make up for in quantity.

He began to do mini-push ups at a rapid fire pace. His pecs jiggled and sloshed like full cartons of milk, and his cock throbbed and grew, dribbling precum as the meaty muscles stroked his shaft over and over. His eyes rolled up slightly as he went faster. He was addicted to it, now. Even if he was too big to work out… it felt…. Good.

He began to sweat, his mouth open as he panted, and his shoes seemed to absorb the sweat and grow bigger and bigger. His modest size 15s were pumping up to 16s, then 18s, then 20s – and they weren’t stopping. It definitely wasn’t getting any less smelly, and every drop of jock sweat he added just made the room feel more and more like a college dorm!

He went faster. Sweatier. Bigger. Smellier. Boxer. Fight. Punch. Fuck. Win. Punch. Fuck. Win. PUNCH. FUCK. WIN. PUNCH! FUCK! WIN!

He couldn’t hold back. Everything in his tiny, addled brain was telling him to cum. It was what a champion did, and this is the kind of person they become. He pushed harder, his pecs spilling gallons of milk on the floor as they jiggled and stroked his thick cock, and his body tensed all over as it began to shoot and explode with thick, sticky streams of cum. It coated the mirror entirely, then the floor, and began to mix with his pec milk as it flooded the room. His shoes were soaked, drinking up the mixture and growing to size 30s without even trying. The odor was abysmal, and anyone who stepped through the door would instantly hate it or love it.

As Mac laid on the floor, panting and empty-headed, he suddenly recalled booking a training session today – and the boy that was about to come in for his one-on-one was either going to be disgusted… or, as Mac knew him, pleasantly surprised.


End file.
